


Segue (Oct 1992)

by Salmoneili



Series: HACF: Cam and Joe are just messing me up ... [6]
Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Cheating on my husband with the ghost of my ex while doing him, Evil Joe always just 'gets' me in all ways possible, F/M, Fantasy Sex, Possessed by a scent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmoneili/pseuds/Salmoneili
Summary: Cam and Tom are living in Tokyo, Cam's been working remotely on Loadstar with Joe and Gordon since Jan 1991 after confessing about cheating on him with Joe at COMDEX ‘90.They’ve tried to put it behind them and move on.It’s the night before Tom's 32nd birthday, Cam’s planned a special dinner, but he has a surprise for her that unbeknownst to him, brings Joe right back in between them again.Is this the beginning of the end of their marriage?Warning: angst, some swearing. Sexually explicit from chapter 325 Jan 2021: rating changed due to ch. 3 and there will be more in ch. 4
Relationships: Cameron Howe/Joe MacMillan, Cameron Howe/Tom Rendon
Series: HACF: Cam and Joe are just messing me up ... [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929043
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for dates  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> 'HACF: Cam and Joe are just messing me up ...' Series Notes  
> This all started with a simple idea to expand on the night of COMDEX 90 from Cam’s POV and then flipping it for Joe’s.  
> I got more than a little carried away… and they turned into epics.  
> Then I wanted to explore their relationship at different times, reflecting on their development as they change and grow, their history and quirks.  
> All the parts try to follow the HACF timeline and events depicted on the show as closely as possible, with a bit of creative license about events only referred to.  
> Exceptions  
> \- plot deviation when Cam and Tom tried for a baby  
> \- post-Ryan's suicide, Joe's apartment is in San Jose not San Francisco  
> The series is pretty racy – mostly Mature only, maybe could even be Explicit in places (sex only). You have been warned.  
> Some parts have a sprinkling of Easter eggs for other Lee Pace characters from TV shows and movies.  
> Feeding my obsession.  
> These are the current list, and I’ll upload more parts as I finish them.  
> So far there’s ….  
> S1 - ‘Stuck’ (June 1983) and ‘Curious’ (Oct 1983) (in progress)  
> S2 – NEW as of Jan 2021! ‘Goddammit’ (June 1985)  
> S3 – ‘COMDEX 90 (Cam)’, ‘COMDEX 90 (Joe)’ Friday, Nov 16 1990  
> S4 – NEW as of Jan 2021! 'Segue' (Oct 1992) and ‘Phone Call’ (Mid-Oct 1993)  
> Post-canon – ‘Fate - Part 1' (March 1998), ‘Fate - Part 2' (March 1998), NEW as of Feb 2021! 'Snippets' (A collection of shorts post-Fate (Post-March 1998) in progress)  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Lovely HACF fandom and readers - I would much appreciate some feedback and/or kudos.  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See end notes for HACF timeline and where this fic in.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.1 

(7.12 p.m., Friday, Oct 23rd, 1992)

Cam looked out the window at the myriad of lights that made up their district of the sprawling city she and Tom had called home for the last six years.

Jesus, six years, it was just insane where the time went.

Goddammit Tom, he’d promised to be home by now, their 8 p.m. reservation was in jeopardy.

She’d booked the new restaurant of the river front in Minato City District two months ago and it was in high demand.

It had the reputation of serving the best Wagu steak in Tokyo and had a price tag to match.

It overlooked what would be the famous Rainbow Bridge that was going to be completed next year.

It didn’t matter, watching the boats and lights play across the water would still be beautiful.

They could well afford to have a splurge.

It wasn’t as if they did it very often.

Besides, they could live comfortably enough on Tom’s salary alone. But she was still freelancing for Atari and got a nominal fee for working on the Loadstar browser with Gordon and Joe as well.

Tom was very organised and had set up various savings accounts and he’d insisted that money was put away every month.

Cam’d never had the foresight to set up anything as much as a rainy-day fund, but she was glad he had, as between them they had a tidy cushion.

Royalties’ from games she’d sold also added to the pot. She also had a sizable lump sum from the eventual sale of Mutiny, over four and a half years ago. 

On a financial advisor friend of Tom's recommendation, she'd put it into a high interest account and wasn't able to touch it for at least 5 years, more if possible. It suited her, she hated thinking about that time and what'd gone down. 

She wasn't sure what she would do with the money, whether she had the energy for it to be a seed fund for a new project if something presented itself. 

They could live pretty comfortably, and it wasn’t if either them went out much, they both had thrown themselves ‘whole hog’ into their respective jobs.

Aside from going out occasionally at weekends, they were too shattered to do much else.

Although, tonight was different, tomorrow was Tom's birthday. They’d made a rule of having at least one ‘work-free’ weekend for their birthdays and, as luck would have it, this time it actually fell on a Saturday.

The only problem was that the restaurant was all the way across the other side of the giant metropolis.

Goddamn him!

She did recalculations in her head, if they left by 7.30, then they could still make it, probably, anyway, depending on the traffic.

Friday nights were usually insane, well more insane than normal.

She shook her head; it was amazing what you could adjust to and come to think of as 'normal.’

Friday nights were an opportunity for most to let off steam, many families were out enjoying having dinner together at a restaurant or one of the many night markets.

There was also a mass exodus happening, many people would be leaving the city, off either to visit family somewhere else or to go hiking or visit temples or whatever else families did for fun.

She’d discovered that the Japanese worked hard and played hard too. They made the most of their weekends, which were a chance for families to reconnect after the long work and equally long school days.

Then there were the revellers, the party people, who wouldn’t be out yet but would stay out most of the night.

She’d see some of them occasionally on the back end of their nights if she went downtown on morning visits to the Atari offices.

She wondered what she’d have been like growing up here rather than a little back-water town in Texas.

A completely different person, she figured.

She thought about calling the restaurant and was working out the Japanese to try to explain arriving late, when she heard the key hit the lock, signalling Tom’s arrival.

Finally.

‘Hey! I know, I know, I’m sorry.’ he was already prepared for her, ‘Mr Nakano was in the office and wanted to go over the projections for the next quarter, everyone’s panicking because this quarter is already showing a shortfall and …’ he stopped seeing her face, ‘Look, I know, I’m sorry, Cam, I’ve been trying to get away since six.’

He ran his fingers through his hair, something he did when he was stressed.

She felt bad, it wasn’t his fault, it was part of his responsibility and it would have sent the wrong message to his team if he’d have left early.

‘OK, so do you want to change?’

‘Is there time?’

‘You have 10 minutes, I think if we leave by 7.30, we’re good.’

Tom was already walking through to their bedroom, putting down his briefcase but taking with him a small gift bag.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While he was in the bedroom, Cam checked her bag again; keys, purse, printed name and address of the restaurant in Japanese, she’d even found a small map, it was much easier showing it to a taxi driver rather than trying to explain it.

She could still feel the adrenalin from stressing over his arrival humming around her system, making her feel nauseas.

She knew she wouldn’t settle until they stepped foot in the restaurant.

She contemplated having a shot of something, whiskey or saké.

Then she thought of her mother when she was a kid, she’d been pretty much always under the influence of a drink or two or something.

No, no, she could wait.

She’d wanted to book the dinner for tomorrow, his actual birthday.

But he’d insisted he wanted to just relax and not get dressed up on his birthday as he did it 5 days a week.

She could understand that.

Instead, they’d arranged to go bowling with the close-knit group of friends he’d made.

They were mainly American, although there were a couple of other nationalities too.

Recently, he’d invited some of his Japanese colleagues as well.

Social connections had always been much easier for him.

It was assumed that all the various wives and girlfriends would all just get along, but she felt like a fish out of water, on the outside of their conversations, as usual.

Ironically, bowling was now a major event in their lives, previously he hadn’t even liked it.

She couldn’t understand how her life had come to this.

She was 31 but she felt practically middle-aged. She imagined her mother getting ready for a night out bowling with Len, her long-time partner.

She fought down the increasing familiar frustration.

She went over to the sink and got herself a glass of water from the filter faucet, she gazed out the window at the myriad of sign lights that competed for attention.

Japan, it sounded so exotic, and she did like it there, but strip away the obvious differences and things were pretty much the same.

Life revolved around work, she still ate a lot of junk food, although not always the food she craved.

Unlike some of the expats they knew, she and Tom had made more of an effort to try and adapt.

Her Japanese was not great, but she could get by.

Although she’d pretty much given up on ever learning or writing kanji after her second year. There were just too many complex characters. She knew enough of the easier hirogana and katakana systems to get by.

Some people she knew seemed proud that they knew next to nothing. They couldn’t even order basic street food such as yakitori or her favorite, okonomiyaki, let alone their morning coffee.

They were also the ones who complained incessantly, finding fault with everything that was strange or different from how things were ‘back home.’

She didn’t understand why they were still there.

Tom came out of their bedroom and walked toward her, the front door being between them.

He was wearing his navy-blue suit, the one he’d had made for one of Sega’s director’s wedding last year.

He looked handsome.

She started walking over to meet him over at the front door.

As she got nearer, she could see that he also had on the gold cuff links she’d got him for Christmas.

Suddenly she caught a whiff off a horribly familiar scent.

It caught her completely off guard and sent shockwaves all the way through her down to her feet, which stopped of their own volition.

She inhaled again, there was no mistaking it; Dior’s Eau Sauvage.

The aftershave that her ex, Joe MacMillan, had been wearing for decades.

What the …?

How did he have …?

Why was he …?

Questions fought for her attention in her muddled mind, while her body went on automatic pilot and responded to the scent.

Something deep and dark snuck out of her core and began to infect her, silently, swiftly, cell by cell.

No, no, no, no!

Tom must have seen her face, ‘Hey, what’s wrong? Do I look OK?’

What could she say?

She even couldn’t talk to him about how CalNect was doing, let alone what she was doing on Loadstar.

It’d been like that since her confession over 18 months ago now.

Anything Joe-related just wasn’t discussed, it was totally off-limits.

She forced herself to focus, re-arrange her face, what had he asked her?

‘No, you look good. I was just thinking about the time.’ A grain of truth for the lie to hide behind, ‘C’mon let’s go.’

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Cam & Joe timeline and important dates as far as research has turned up, I found a great image that someone had made of action from all 4 seasons [wow!] I’m forever grateful to them!  
> 1983 June-Nov - Joe and Cam work on the Cardiff Giant and relationship (Aug-Nov)  
> 1986 July – Cam marries Tom Rendon  
> 1986 Dec 19 – Ryan commits suicide by jumping from Joe's apartment balcony  
> 1986 Dec before Xmas – Cam & Tom move to Tokyo  
> 1990 Nov – COMDEX, Cam cheats on Tom with Joe  
> 1990 Dec – Meeting to discuss the Worldwide Web, Tom & Joe fight. Cam decides to work on the project with Gordon & Joe, removing Donna  
> 1991 Jan – Cam confesses to Tom, tells Joe she can only work on the browser, Loadstar, remotely  
> 1992 Jan – Cam & Joe phone call fight re 69 downloads
> 
> \----------------  
> 'Segue' timeline  
> 1992 Oct 23 - Tom's birthday weekend  
> \----------------  
> 1993 end Mar – Tom begins tentative affair with future wife (guess)
> 
> \----------------  
> HACF timeline  
> 1993 Spring (March – guess) – Joe’s dad dies  
> 1993 April – Mosaic browser, Joe tells Gordon after being introduced to Mike Hausmann (AOL), Mosaic is better than the other browsers, Nexus, Viola, Midas & Millennium (Donna’s), as it’s available on every platform, it supports in-line video and webform support (in first 6 months)  
> 1993 late March – Tom splits up with Cam, some point starts divorce proceedings (I'm guessing in mid-April and Cam stops communicating with Joe & Gordon, focuses on her 'Pilgrim' game (assume Joe rounds-up) 5 months of ‘radio silence’ taking to Oct)  
> 1993 Oct 2 – Joe and Gordon go camping – Joe tells Gordon, Mosaic is now the front door to the web, and they’ve lost their first mover advantage. Gordon says Mosaic has over million downloads in the first 6 months, Joes thinks the numbers are inflated but has Loadstar has only 431. They could still build a Mosaic-killer, but he doesn’t think Cam could do it  
> 1993 Oct 7 – Atari Game testing (guess)  
> 1993 Oct 9 – Gordon’s 40th birthday party  
> 1993 Oct 13-14 - Phone call between Cam and Joe, and they get back together for the 2nd time  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Fictional birthdays:  
> Cam b. July 1961 - 31 in July 92  
> Tom b. Oct, 24th 1960 – 31 > 32 in ‘Segue’ story  
> 


	2. The Outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cam and Tom enjoy their dinner, but Cam recalls the different Joes in her life, now and before.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch. 2

(7.45 p.m., Friday, Oct 23rd, 1992)

The smell almost overwhelmed her in the confined space of the taxi, and she’d had to wind down a window. She closed her eyes as she sucked in a breath from the exhaust fume-tinged air now whipping around the cab.

Still, it helped diffuse and disperse the heavy scent of … him.

Shame she couldn’t open up her brain for the same to happen to her thoughts.

She’d asked Tom about the aftershave in the elevator, just before they arrived at the lobby of their apartment block.

He’d said it’d been a gift from the directors’ secretaries, she probed a bit deeper as she didn’t remember him ever receiving a gift from his secretary, Eshima, in the four years she’d worked for him, let alone any of the other assistants.

He recounted an incident from two weeks ago when Eshima begged him to distract Mr. Murakami, Sega’s notoriously short-tempered finance director, as his new secretary had accidentally deleted part of an important report and was in the midst of retyping it. This was his third assistant this year and the more experienced woman had taken pity on the girl, rallying the other secretaries to help out too.

Cam listened with half an ear as he elaborated on how he sought the crotchety old man’s advice on a budgeting issue he’d already solved. But Murakami was only too pleased to help, as, for some reason he had a soft spot for Tom.

The gift had actually been the new girl’s way to thank Tom and it’d been dressed up as a birthday present from all of them to save face.

For the duration of his story, she appeared rapt, turned toward him, raising her eyebrows, and making the right noises at various points in his narrative.

While he talked, her mind was wandering and she was on edge, as skittery and rigid as a new-born fawn, anxiously awaiting the return of its mother to protect it from the specter of marauding predators.

She couldn’t shake the growing warmth inside her, centered in her loins. She was getting turned on despite her brain trying to shut it down.

She didn’t understand what was happening, how could something so benign as a _smell_ have such an effect on her?

Was she getting aroused by the memory of what was long passed, so long dead with … _Joe_?

An image of him, long burned into her psyche, stood in the lights of his Porsche, his top in tatters, his chest and belly and his scars exposed, his face full of passion floated unbidden into her vision.

She shivered, not from the cold, and moved over in the seat, away from Tom, nearer the window, trying to get the rushing air to flush out her thoughts.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they neared the restaurant, her rational side rose-up in anger, beating the dark presence back down, by recalling how she was currently engaged in a yet another email battle with her ex, now co-worker.

He was definitely not her boss, this time, even though he insisted on acting like it.

 _Asshole_.

Their war of attrition had been going on a long time now, pretty much a couple of months after she'd told him she was going to work with him and Gordon remotely back in January 1991, ostensibly choosing Tom over him.

The idea for a web browser was too early, as Gordon’d predicted, and it’d stuttered and stalled.

But while Gordon continued growing the physical network with his NSFNET, Joe’d thrown his all into making the browser happen, seemingly manifesting it into existance from the future through the sheer force of his iron will and in doing so, became a giant pain in her butt.

She knew that he wanted the browser to be the best it could be and everything he wanted, she mostly agreed with, but his methods left a lot to be desired.

The legacy of their fling at COMDEX was the giant exploding elephant in her inbox that neither would bring up.

Ever.

If his plan was to wear her down through continued contact and she’d magically change her mind, finally deciding he was the one, then he really did have a screw loose.

It was seriously flawed.

It felt like they were flogging dead horse and more than anything she wanted to wring his neck.

By some kind of miracle, she’d only had five emails from him this week, usually there were more.

She knew even without opening them that they'd be all in the same, nagging, accusative tone, asking why she hadn’t fixed the latest bugs he’d found, giving her info on their competitors and the latest depressingly low download figures.

They had crept up into the three digits now at least.

But seriously, as if she didn’t already know, like she didn’t keep tabs on everything as well.

He meticulously cataloged all of her errors and shoved them back in her face. No, he rammed them down her throat.

Was it any wonder that she’d only sent one terse reply and pointedly ignored the rest?

Even more annoying, three months ago he’d discovered read receipts and was tracking her responses.

In retaliation, she stopped opening all of his messages, leaving the majority unread, infuriating him even more. Spawning yet more emails.

Asshole.

So round and round they went, both too stubborn and angry with the other to break their destructive cycle.

Mercilessly, on Wednesday, she’d missed his phone call, being in the shower at the time.

She knew he’d assume she’d ignored him on purpose and be even more pissed.

Because him, she’d developed the habit of screening her calls, letting the answer machine get them all and listening to decide if she would pick up or not.

They’d started off so well the previous January, but she knew she’d hurt him, and he was bitter that she’d chosen her marriage.

It fed his anger about the delays and lack of success with the project.

Now he was just resentful, and she was an easy target, a role reversal from over ten years ago.

She could hear his frustration, as he pleaded and tried to cajole her into picking up when she played it back, before angrily deleting it forever and screaming her own exasperation at the inanimate object.

She wanted to throw it across the room, smash it, like she had her phone back in the ‘80s when he'd kept calling then.

Fucking Joe, what’d she been thinking getting ‘back into bed with him?’ Literally and figuratively.

An odd sensation ran through her as she thought about the turn of phrase again, a whiff of scent wound its way up into her nasal passage.

In her mind’s eye, a shadow of Joe’s open mouth hovered in front of her, about to crash onto her lips, clean-shaven smooth skin, from a time past.

She closed her eyes, forcing the mirage away.

Stop.

She’d mostly lost herself in playing video games for the whole week, it was her way to deal with the pressure and stop herself getting even more mad with him.

Although today, had been a good day as she’d been inspired to start on a new game idea, there were a few she had on the go, and she was annoyed at herself for stopping and starting, but they just weren't good enough.

They had to be ... perfect. She was her own worse critic.

Her enthusiasm for each waned and she couldn’t seem to build up the momentum to complete any of them, although she didn’t tell Atari that.

Interruptions didn’t help as they derailed her thoughts, she’d been fully into coding this latest one when the alarm she’d set for 6 p.m. had gone off.

She’d felt like she’d literally just eaten lunch, but 5 hours had just zipped up. She sighed reluctantly, got up and went to get ready for their night out.

She’d even bothered to put make-up on and her low-cut wrap around aubergine cashmere cardigan over a newly purchased figure-hugging beige skirt that flared out from mid-thighs and reached down to her calves.

She loved clothes shopping in Japan, there was so much that was just so her, but she limited herself to pieces she could mix and match. The skirt had a quirky asymmetric champagne gold sparkling panel on one side and a row of gold feature buttons on the other.

She completed her outfit with a tailored buff-colored mid-length jacket, knee-high boots and a matching clutch, both in buttery soft chocolate brown swede.

Perfect, if she said to herself, checking herself out in her full-length mirror.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner had been spectacular; she’d even enjoyed the red wine.

She had to admit that it did go so well with steak, maybe it complimented the red juices that’d oozed out of her rare wagu.

She’d pushed away thoughts the time in Joe's Dallas kitchen when he'd fed her bits of various cooked steak, trying to open her up to anything other than well done.

Now she was like Joe, and enjoyed it bloody.

Relished it even.

Though the desserts were less than impressive in her eyes.

The restaurant had provided a small birthday cake, chocolate and cream with a heavy garnish of fruit and a corny sparkler, they’d laughed, embarrassed as other diners clapped politely, while the waiter hovered around them.

She thought for a minute he was going to launch into a rendition of ‘Happy birthday’, T.G.I. Friday’s style, but he was just waiting to whisk away the sparkler before it reached the cake or burned down the restaurant or something.

The Japanese loved their impossibly light and cream-filled chiffon cakes, but to her they were like eating sweetened air.

They were extremely unsatisfying. She craved something heavy with fudge and frosting.

Tom ordered a two glasses of Suntory Hakushu whisky, a vintage malt.

As they toasted his birthday and sipped, savoring its sweet-honeyed notes, she mused how they’d both become connoisseurs, like … _him_.

What a trend setter Joe was.

Just _fuck off_ annoying voice in her head.

Tom scratched his face, sending a fresh wave of aftershave in her direction, it was subtle, but she was so sensitive to it, she knew she could pick it out of a perfumery at a 100-paces.

The darkness inside her shifted, reminding her of its presence. It reached up, clawing, as if trying to break out.

Suddenly, she was looking down Joe’s naked chest in a dimly lit room, under the shadowy curve of his bearded chin, she could see the rough, pitted troughs of the large scar that crossed it, the dark chocolate nub of his erect nipple sitting atop of his scarred pec, the right one she thought idly. Lower still, her blurred arm was slung across his softy rising belly …

She closed her eyes and exhaled, forcing the smell away. The image too melted back into recesses of her mind and the table swam into view again.

She forced the monster down again, for now.

She looked up, Tom was speaking to her, ‘W-what?’

‘Are you OK?’ he repeated, eyebrows drawn in concern.

‘Yeah,’ she shook her head to clear it, ‘Yeah, I’m just tired. Sorry.’

‘That’s OK, me too,’ he admitted, ‘Shall we go?’

‘Yeah.’ she signaled the waiter and motioned for the check, taking her chic purse out of her bag.

‘That’s OK, let me get it.’ said Tom, hand stretched out over the table.

‘No!’ her eyebrows furrowed fiercely, ‘This is my treat, this is your birthday present, remember?’ She needlessly reminded him.

‘OK, thank you.’ he smiled, relenting.

‘You’re welcome.’

As the waiter came with the check, a shadow of confusion passed over his face as Cam put her hand out for it.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short teasing taster, a link until the main action in the next - enjoy :)
> 
> Warning getting a bit racy, I've change the rating in anticipation of the next chapter.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch. 3

(9.58 p.m., Friday, Oct 23rd, 1992)

He’d pulled her close in the taxi and kissed her, ‘Thank you.’

She tried not to breathe, ‘You’re welcome, happy early birthday.’

‘Well, it’s not long now,’ he replied, and then looked directly at her, ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?’ he whispered.

‘Tom …’ she blushed and pulled away, keenly aware of both the scent and the taxi driver, although the man hadn’t taken his eyes off the road.

He looked where her eyes were fixed, kissing her hair, repeating, ‘You look beautiful,’ and he sat back and took her hand.

She was frozen, the smell wasn’t exactly the same on Tom’s skin as it was on Joe’s. There was some strange alchemy as it reacted with the natural pH of his skin, distorting it.

But it was close enough to make the darkness drift dangerously downwards.

It began to grow, spreading by infecting her very cells like a virus, tinging them with black.

Soon she wouldn't be able to control it.

After a beat, she turned to face him and smiled, squeezing his hand, the contact igniting the passion, which spiked in her belly. She thought he looked handsome tonight, different to ... but still, she couldn’t wait to get him home.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She should’ve let him shower, it’d would’ve erased every trace of that beautiful, cloying, sickly-sweet smell from his body.

She should’ve just told him it was the same aftershave that Joe wore and be done with it.

She should’ve done a lot of things; she definitely should’ve at least thought about the consequences of what she was doing.

But she always had been impulsive.

Not that there was anything actually wrong with fucking her husband, ostensibly anyway.

It was just they didn’t do it an awful lot nowadays and she wasn’t exactly fucking ... _him_ , not in her head anyway.

After many attempts at breaking her, the smell had finally won out, and she was lost in it.

Was the ghost of Joe smiling in triumph across the miles? Across the years?

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they’d arrived home, Cam’d led him to their bedroom.

He’d been surprised to say the least, as she’d pretty much just attacked him in the elevator. She’d made short work of his tie and popped several of his shirt buttons.

Neither could remember the last time they’d been so passionate with each other.

Time and familiarity alone did that to a marriage, let alone one fractured by infidelity.

They’d giggled like kids as they’d tried to keep kissing, whilst navigating finding keys, unlocking the front door and trying not to disturb their neighbors.

It’d felt new again, like how it was when they’d first got together in '85, before Joe had re-entered their lives, offering Mutiny the chance of timesharing on the servers of his employer, the big oil multinational, Westgroup, owned by his future father-in-law.

She’d tried to focus on Tom and ignore the aroma that was exuding from him, albeit faintly, but it was too strongly imprinted on her.

The creature that was lurking inside was wide awake now, and it stalked her, biding its time.

Sat on the bed, Tom’d got frustrated struggling with ties of her cardigan and rather than undoing it for him, she simply yanked it up over her head and slung it behind her.

‘Oh, that’s one way to do it.’ Tom grinned and raised his eyebrows at her broad smile, as she set to work on the rest of his shirt buttons.

She’d been wearing the only fancy underwear she owned, that stuff didn’t bother her most of the time.

It was a French label, understated and probably very expensive, ivory silk, a balconette underwired bra tasteful edged in lace, and matching Brazilian briefs. He’d got it for her for her birthday last year, seven months after the ‘COMDEX incident.’ It’d been a failed attempt to put some fizz back in their marriage.

‘Ooh, sexy,' he breathed, taking in her in, before looking back into her face and hesitating, suddenly remembering everything.

She could see it there, her infidelity, reflected back at her, straining his features and normally, it made her falter too, then it would be awkward between them again.

Joe was in between them again. The pain of what she’d done with him, her guilt, drove a wedge between them.

But tonight was different, she was in a different place, she had a scratch that needed itching.

Besides, in the alcoholic haze, she figured enough time had passed.

With practiced ease, she slipped her tongue deep into his mouth and moved her head this way and that, trying to get a better angle to the kiss, allowing an ardent sigh to escape as she did.

She pressed herself into him, winding one arm around his back and the other up to his neck, drawing him to her tightly, encouraging him more too.

It worked, overriding his reticence, the earlier wine and whisky had also worked their magic on him, and his hands went down to her waist, searching for the skirt fastening.

She took another hit of the aftershave, and it seemed to goad her on further.

She moaned ardently into his mouth.

But it melted her defenses and Joe came back up into her dizzied brain, multiple images of a thousand hot kisses flashed in and out of her memory, increasing the heat inside of her.

Her muscle memory conjured his busy hands, clawing in desperate passion at uncooperative clothing …

It took all of her remaining reserve to force him away again, closing her eyes even tighter as the darkness inside her temporarily relented, and she opened them to re-focus on her husband.

They stripped each other of their remaining clothes, Cam down to her lingerie and Tom already out of his.

She always was more impatient, but that wasn’t anything new.

‘Lie back,’ she whispered, indicating to the center of their bed and he complied, smiling back at her, his beautiful bold brazen wife.

The queen-sized Western bed was the first piece of furniture they’d bought for their apartment. They’d laughed as they’d chosen the sturdy cherry wood frame and tried a variety of mattresses in the store with a playfulness that had embarrassed their translator but not the salesperson, who’d seen it all before.

His eyes followed her as she rose to turn off the too bright overhead light, throwing the room into darkness save for the eerie glow of green digital numbers of the clock radio on his bedside cabinet.

The low lighting helped soothe the restlessness inside of her, the agitation that the echoes of Joe provoked.

She could make out Tom’s form in the glimmer as the shadows moved as he shifted himself slightly into a more comfortable position, anticipating her return.

She got onto the bed and straddled him, settling herself on his thighs. She glanced slyly at his growing erection as she crept forward, balancing on her hands, positioning them either side of his chest.

She paused to look at his face, his eyes dark and hooded with desire, looked back as her.

She was close to the source again, his lust reflected hers and this time there was no escape, the monster inside seized control as she inhaled again.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh and the monster inside Cam is ... da da daaa ... did you see that coming?  
> First time playing with a 'twist ' (of sorts). Although, it wasn't my plan, he must've ambushed me too ...
> 
> Comments or kudos - much appreciated


	4. The Takeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit trippy for Cam, references other stories in the series, if you’re following, hope you catch them :)

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch. 4

(10.27 p.m., Friday, Oct 23rd, 1992)

So softly did the fragrance’s familiar, if slightly altered, sharp citrus top notes wind their way into Cam’s nasal cavities that her final descent was almost imperceptible.

Her sensory neurons quickly transported the scent via electrical pulses up into her olfactory bulb. This was the same place where her emotional memories were stored, where Joe permanently stalked.

As the hit of those fleeting fresh tones disseminated, the spiced floral middle notes asserted themselves, and even before the last heavy, bitter-sweet earthy base notes took over, his image had already been set free and was flickering freely through her brain.

Vision after vision from the nine years that she’d known him poured out and blended together in a dazzling kaleidoscope from her stored recesses.

It unsteadied her and she started to shatter, bending to his indomitable shadowy will.

The room began to whirl and right before her eyes, Tom’s face rearranged itself into an incarnation of Joe's from the early years, all smug and superior, goading her to break him.

Her shocked brain flew back to his Dallas bedroom, their first full night replayed itself at a million miles an hour, dazing her, before settling on a close-up of his intense imploring eyes, framed by his heavy, wilting eyebrows.

Joe … _no_.

She tried to push him away, however like in real life, even his ‘ghost’ was tenacious.

Just fuck _off_ , he triggered her anger, as usual it was on a knife edge of either that or lust, and sometimes one would turn into the other ...

_Damn him._

She ground her teeth, no, no, no, NO!

Her anger burned brightly.

But whatever _it_ was, it knew how to counter and undermine her emotions.

It knew her secrets and her weakness.

It was _part_ of her, after all.

His image warped into the pained expression back from her porch when she’d purposefully broken him, reveling in it.

The memory’d anchored itself into her brain, and it was always ready to burst out when she was low and bent on torturing herself. In the same way a tongue worries an aching tooth.

It’d taken her a good couple of years to get a better perspective on what’d happened back after COMDEX '83, to see that he hadn’t meant to betray her, that he had really loved her. But it was too late to go back as they’d both moved on.

Afterwards, when she’d been able to reflect on everything more dispassionately, his anguished face had the opposite effect and broken her instead. Its appearance always kicked up fresh guilt about her too harsh words that pierced her heart.

She knew she’d been wrong, not that her stubbornness had ever let her say it or back down or apologize.

She _never_ apologized.

The knowledge made her squirm uncomfortably. Probably another reason the sight or the thought of him pissed her off more.

Without thinking, she moved her hand up to cup his miraged cheek, belatedly offering him the comfort she’d never him given real life.

Sorrow replaced her anger, and she stared at him under her.

Tom rose up off the bed, catching his wife’s expression and wanting to kiss away her hurt, but all she saw was Joe’s mouth, his parted lips coming up to claim hers. His mouth being slightly wider and more sensual. The ridges above the clean-shaven lip were deeper, more etched, and the squarer, stronger jaw, was unmistakable.

She shivered, awaiting the sparks that inevitably happened when they touched.

Their tongues fought, and she stopped struggling, she let herself indulge in her fantasy.

‘Joe’ smirked knowingly; he had her again for another stolen night.

His hands came up to hold her, she placed hers up on his chest, they traced the path of his scars on autopilot. She didn’t need to see them, having cataloged them over many intimate sessions. She knew the map of his rough skin with its jagged contours and pitted troughs as well as she knew the back of her hand.

Under her, Tom groaned, enjoying how she caressed him.

Until she found his nipples, which she pinched forcefully, remembering how much Joe enjoyed pain.

‘Oww! Cam! Stop, Jesus!’ Tom’s angry yelp of complaint rudely broke through her fabrication, his hands coming up to pull hers away.

Her fury flared, redirecting itself at Tom this time, as Joe’s image blinked and spluttered, seeming to crash or short-circuit.

But the invasive scent was a constant and it was just a glitch.

Fuck off, she was pissed, how dare Tom ruin this, he’d brought Joe into their bed, it wasn’t her and she seethed.

She allowed her rage to mix with the anger that’d prickled her all week.

It was the spark that was needed and suddenly, rebooted, a jerky and flickering zoetrope image of Joe flared up, older, bearded, from that one long night in Vegas, his eyes filled with lust.

Echoes of his promise filled her ears, his velvety voice vibrated down her spine landing right in the center of her, pooling and amplifying what was already there, ‘I’m going to make you come all night.’ and thrillingly, he’d kept his word.

It blindsided her.

He always had been stronger.

She crushed her lips on to the image of his, moving her hands to his shoulders so she could leverage herself over his dick, grinding her hips down onto it.

Anger fueled her passion now, turning Tom’s real objections into groans with her fire.

In her mind, while she heard him, her brain supplied a different soundtrack on loop, deeper, throatier.

More urgent.

She was spurred on.

Tom’s hands pushed her bra upwards, freeing her breasts and his hands cupped them, squeezing them.

‘Harder.’ she growled, angling herself down and placing a hand over his, to show him what she meant.

‘Joe’ was different to how she remembered.

She was going for angry make-up sex, needing to wipe the slate clean between them.

He wasn’t cooperating, being too ... soft, too supplicant.

He was a fighter too, where was _his_ fire?

Her rational self, felt like she was just an observer, but it quickly supplied memories of a thousand petty arguments over his ridiculous, frustrating need for everything, including her, to be just so.

\--The bugs will get fixed, I’m on it, stop nagging.--

\--Who cares if the cereal box isn’t facing outwards?--

\--Jesus, _asshole!--_

\--I _can_ fucking wash dishes.--

\--They ARE clean.--

\--Stop.--

\--Just stop.--

\--The bedsheet isn’t turned down the same way a marine would? Well, we’re _not_ in the military, Joe!--

\--Get-fucking-over-it.--

Christ, he was the most annoying man in the world.

Except when he was between her thighs.

Then he was exceptional.

‘Aaaahhhh … J … J … _Jesus_!’ she screamed more from the panic of nearly saying his name.

That was close, and the shock jolted her.

She couldn’t afford a slip like that again.

Something other than her brain moved into the driving seat, pushing her foot firmly on the gas.

Let’s get this, whatever it was, done.

‘I want you inside of me,’ husky, hungry, 'Now.’

Between the smell and her need, she was going crazy.

She felt hands on her panties, tugging them down.

Too polite.

Too slow.

What was ‘he’ doing? This wasn’t like him.

She wanted ripping, she wanted roughness, to fight with him, tooth and claw.

Like it usually was … _usually?_

There was nothing ‘usual’ about this.

She screamed internally.

She needed him to step up his game.

C’mon, Joe, make me beg for it, she silently yelled at ‘him.’

Eyes still shut, she put her hand down and just yanked the gusset of her panties to one side. Then blindly, she groped backwards for his cock and angled herself down onto it.

‘Yes, … aaahhhh, _yes_ ,’ groaning loudly, unabashedly slutty as he slid inside.

It still felt … _off_.

With the last vestiges of lucidity, she tried to decide how, as she twisted her hips and flexed herself around him, pushing down seeking … more.

But there was no more, she’d have to make do.

‘Ooh, _aaahh_ ,' maybe more noise would help get her into it.

It worked for Tom, who did get more into it.

Strong arms pulled her down and they were kissing again, and pelvises pushed urgently against each other.

More like rutting animals, base and mindless.

She moved her head, back down to his neck, the source, where the scent was at its strongest.

Teeth bared, she wanted to _devour_ him.

Joe’s face, full of desire, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tight, burning eyes searching hers, floated across her vision.

So hot.

So fucking hot.

So damnably fucking hot.

It pushed her out of control, her lust bloomed deeper inside of her as they connected.

Or re-connected.

Whatever.

She undulated her hips, and he matched her.

She started going faster, setting the pace, imploring him to increase his.

To start driving into her with the force and ferocity, she knew _he_ had.

She needed to get off, but it wasn’t working.

Previously, Joe could read her so well, time after time, she got off, multiple times more.

The score sheet she kept in her head, proved it.

Her addled brain could only stutter out that maybe 'Joe' had forgotten after so long apart, or 'he' was sick or changed in some unimaginable way.

She’d have to take charge, to remind 'him', guide 'him'.

‘Dig your nails into my thighs.’

Tom faltered, he’d never seen her like this, causing her pain wasn’t his thing.

Maybe it was the alcohol, he reasoned.

She nipped at his neck and wildly scratched his chest, encouraging him and he did as she bid.

She moaned, approvingly.

She was all around him, warm mouth working on his neck, her ardent sighs filled his ears and hands were moving over his body.

His eyes went to her breasts, dark nipples hung down like two firm small cherries and his fingers couldn’t help but claim one.

She rewarded him with a fervored, ‘Yes.’

Lower down, he felt her slick passage contract around him, holding him tightly, the heat generated was addictive.

He wished he were here more often, and the pain of what she’d done had polluted his love, and he felt it in his body, like a toxin. It turned to anger and he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, angrily thrusting himself deeper inside of her.

Yes! Here 'he' was at last.

In response, she arched herself up and back, pushing her breasts up, chest and belly heaving in her excitement. She reached back to find 'his' thighs and flexed her nails, driving into them.

Tom let out a guttural groan, finding himself extremely turned on.

An image of Murakami’s new secretary’s face floated in front of his vision and he blinked in surprise and tried to re-focus on his wife in the throes of passion.

Cam needed release, she needed the next level.

‘Touch my clit, make me come.’ she instructed, her eyes heavy and slitted.

But instead of Tom, she saw Joe’s shark-like smile and his longer, more muscular arms, reaching toward her.

She felt the tug as her panties, stretching tightly across her mound, and watched 'his' face darkened with desire as 'his' eyes looked down into the center of her.

Cam held her breath as Tom's other hand with fingers outstretched, reached out to touch her aching bud, the instant he did, felt like a thousand volts of electricity searing through her.

She rocked her hips forward, angling down, getting more pressure, ‘Oh God, yes … _yes_ , uuhhh – uhhh – uh …’

Tom sensing her closeness, and feeling overwhelming the pull of his own orgasm calling him, started to slam into her with more force and speed.

Both getting more vocal as they went higher.

She grabbed his hand and brought it up to her mouth, sucking her juices off his fingers.

The look on her face was so … erotic with the surprising ‘dirty’ act, and it caused Tom to go over the edge.

He came first, pissing her off, it should have been her, but she squeezed her eyes shut, maintaining her fantasy as he shuddered under her.

She pinched her nipple, and, in her mind, it was Joe’s hand doing it.

She rippled her hips; he was fully inside of her and she jerked and bumped her clit against his public bone.

Suddenly, her quivers overtook her body too, and her hands came forward and went to either side of his rising stomach, as she slumped, the convulsions stopped.

When she looked up, Joe had vanished.

Tom was staring back at her, with an unreadable expression on his face, half in shadow, half in a green sci-fi glow, ‘Well, that was different.’ he said hoarsely.

She groaned inwardly, had she revealed too much? Did he know?

For half a beat, they stared at each other, she broke first, ‘I think I drank too much … err … I need to pee, sorry.’

Unceremoniously, she clambered off him and headed to their ensuite, readjusting her panties and bra, pulling it back down.

Closing the door, her eyes went to a bottle left by the side of the sink, Dior’s Eau Sauvage, the bright acid-green liquid, reminding her of the light in the bedroom.

It seemed to mock her. 

She picked it up and turned it in her hand. Did it have a genie inside?

She fought the overwhelming urge to hurl it into her reflection.

 _Fucking Joe_ , how did he still have this hold over her?

And fucking Tom for being so, so … _not_ Joe.

The thought stunned her.

Her reflection looked back at her with huge wide eyes and mirrored her as she placed the bottle down again, with the care one might an incendiary device.

I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, she told it and went to the toilet before removing her make-up and brushing her teeth.

She was lying in bed with her eyes closed, but she was still wide awake when Tom returned from his trip to the bathroom. She felt the bed dip as he moved over to her.

‘Cam?’ he whispered.

‘Mmm?’

‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

She opened her eyes, and he was right in her face, he dipped down and kissed her, she got a subtle whiff of the aftershave that still clung to him and she tensed up and backed her head into the pillow.

Tom broke the kiss, and she could see his confusion.

‘Sorry, I’m tired, and too drunk …’ she added to cover herself. Fuck, why did she freeze up when he touched her? It was Tom?

She was so messed up.

That fucking smell, she had to get rid of it.

‘Happy birthday.’ she mumbled, her voice sounding cracked.

‘Thanks.’

She rolled over on her side, away from him.

She heard him exhale and sensed his frustration.

But she had nothing to offer him, she was torn, being between a rock and a hard place.

Joe came back into her mind, was he gloating, smiling at her from across the divide of space and time?

Jesus, just stop, bitch.

She groaned inwardly at the thought of going out with Tom's friends tomorrow, having to be all smiley and social.

All she really wanted to do was work on Loadstar, get that out of the way, then she could continue with the game she'd started.

She gritted her teeth.

Frustratingly, it would have to wait, her mind ticked over, maybe she could sort out the latest bugs on Sunday morning, as Tom was bound to drink too much with his buddies and sleep in.

Then she could email Joe when she was done, and he'd be off her back. It would at least end this week's fight between them.

OK, that was settled then.

She hoped sleep would come for her soon.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - how will Cam deal with the unwanted 'invader' in her bathroom?


	5. The Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cam's plot to get rid of 'genie Joe in the bottle.'

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch. 5

Cam waited one week, then two, then a couple more days for luck, before putting her plan into action.

She found it excruciating, patience was not one of her strong suits.

Tom’d worn the hated cologne to work a few times.

Each time he opened the bottle, it’d conjured up Joe in her head like a fucking evil genie.

It made her want to gag.

Each time, after Tom’d left for work, she ruthlessly sprayed excessive amounts of air freshener around trying to rid the bathroom and the apartment of its lingering reek.

Unfortunately, the mix of the two, gave her a throbbing headache, forcing her to evacuate to her favorite coffee shop for an hour or two, until the air’d cleared.

She looked in Tom’s side of the bathroom cabinet and frowned angrily at the bottle with its sickly green contents. It was next to the aftershave she'd bought him, which he frequently wore and beside the hair crème he occasionally did.

She focused on the nail clippers that were in front of the bottle.

That was when she hatched her plan.

OK then, she would be patient, she would wait.

For once.

She carefully picked up the bottle and set it down on the wide countertop that the sink was set into.

The bottle design, like its contents hadn’t changed in all this time, a small squat bottle with diagonal ridges in the glass that made the contents shimmer and refract the light. A simple label, but it still exuded elegance, trust in Joe to be all fancy-schmanchy, she sighed and her mouth started moving into a soft grin and ended with clenched teeth and a tightening of her jaw.

She’d seen a display of it once in a department store when she was shopping for a gift for Bos, and she knew Dior had made other versions, but it was the classic that had endured and that she preferred.

She brought the bottle up to inspect it, as she had a thousand times before.

Her brain was screaming for her not to do it, but her hands acted on their own accord, betrayed her. The lid was off, and she was inhaling it again before she knew what had happened.

Why did she keep letting the Goddamn genie out?

She didn’t understand herself.

The smell curled inside her, it made her feel … a conflict of emotions, but safe was not one that she’d anticipated.

 _Goddammit_.

Enough.

But it was part of her daily ritual now, like brushing her teeth.

When the fateful Wednesday rolled around, she’d been breezy, making Tom coffee before he left for work.

Telling him she’d been up early on a call while the latest version of Loadstar was being tested.

That was always a conversation stopper.

Then he was gone and she headed purposefully to the bathroom.

One last sniff and she let the contents trickle down the sink.

She placed the empty bottle back in its place and mimicked slipping, going for the nail clippers and thought how she'd push her hand back and out, plotting the trajectory of the aftershave and his hair product into the opposite wall.

After a couple of practices, she steeled herself and did it for real.

Both the plastic container and the glass one rocketed out and hit the wall but landed, intact, on the bath matt.

‘Fuck!’

She picked it up and threw it, gingerly against the wall, she wanted it to break but not to smash.

It thudded to the ground, still whole, thwarting her again.

‘ _Goddammit!'_

She picked it up and, yelled, ‘Please fucking _break!_ ’ as she hurled it with more force than she’d intended, this time at the sharp-edged corner of the wall.

The Gods were with her and it did smash, but dramatically, and shards of glass exploded everywhere.

She cursed again.

She carefully edged her way out of the bathroom, so she didn’t accidentally tread on any pieces with her bare feet and went to get the dustpan and brush.

She wished she’ll kept some aftershave to pour onto the bathmat, but she’d just have to do a load of washing today.

Later, when Tom came home, she immediately acted contrite and worried at her lower lip, it was what she did when she was nervous.

Keeping up the act until Tom was almost begging her to tell him, already vowing not to be mad.

When had she become such a good actress?

After confessing all and apologizing for the millionth time, Tom declined her offer to buy the aftershave again, as she knew he would, saying that he actually preferred his original cologne and he’d only been wearing the other to be polite to the secretaries.

She couldn’t tell if he was lying or it was the truth, but it didn’t matter, she’d got what she wanted, Joe was back to being just an annoyance in her inbox, and him still 5,000 miles away.

For now, anyway.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> How I see Tom's affair starting: 
> 
> The new secretary who gave Tom the aftershave would be the one he’d eventually leave Cam for. 
> 
> After flirting at work for months, their affair started at the end of January 1993 as the relationship with his wife became increasingly more fractured and they just drifted apart.
> 
> He’d confess and move out in the last week of March and start divorce proceedings in mid-April. 
> 
> After working on auto pilot, Cam hit a brick wall a couple of weeks later, when she was contacted by Tom's lawyers and the reality took hold. She stopped working on Loadstar and completely stopped replying to messages from Joe and Gordon. 
> 
> She was overwhelmed, but part of her wanted to be single for a while, be on her own, not bounce between men the way her mom had for decades. 
> 
> She didn't know who she was anymore, she felt lost. She lost herself in creating her game 'Pilgrim.' 
> 
> It was her journey to find herself and what was important in her life - family, friendship and a sense of belonging.
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
